s uncommon sight of two such glorious singers. They
had not the slightest suspicion of the close relations in which Krespel
stood to the pair. Willingly would he have seen with his own eyes the
daughter who occupied so large a place in his heart, and who moreover
often appeared to him in his dreams; but as often as he thought upon
his wife he felt very uncomfortable, and so he remained at home amongst
his broken violins. There was a certain promising young composer,
B---- of F----, who was found to have suddenly disappeared, nobody knew
where. This young man fell so deeply in love with Antonia that, as she
returned his love, he earnestly besought her mother to consent to an
immediate union, sanctified as it would further be by art. Angela had
nothing to urge against his suit; and the Councillor the more readily
gave his consent that the young composer's productions had found
favour before his rigorous critical judgment. Krespel was expecting
to hear of the consummation of the marriage, when he received
instead a black-sealed envelope addressed in a strange hand. Doctor
R---- conveyed to the Councillor the sad intelligence that Angela had
fallen seriously ill in consequence of a cold caught at the theatre,
and that during the night immediately preceding what was to have been
Antonia's wedding-day, she had died. To him, the Doctor, Angela had
disclosed the fact that she was Krespel's wife, and that Antonia was
his daughter; he, Krespel, had better hasten therefore to take charge
of the orphan. Notwithstanding that the Councillor was a good deal
upset by this news of Angela's death, he soon began to feel that an
antipathetic, disturbing influence had departed out of his life, and
that now for the first time he could begin to breathe freely. The very
same day he set out for F----. You could not credit how heartrending
was the Councillor's description of the moment when he first saw
Antonia. Even in the fantastic oddities of his expression there was
such a marvellous power of description that I am unable to give even so
much as a faint indication of it. Antonia inherited all her mother's
amiability and all her mother's charms, but not the repellent reverse
of the medal. There was no chronic moral ulcer, which might break out
from time to time. Antonia's betrothed put in an appearance, whilst
Antonia herself, fathoming with happy instinct the deeper-lying
character of her wonderful father, sang one of old Padre Martini's[9]
mo